Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland

by T. T. Sutherland

  “No,” the Queen said, removing the hat.

  The Queen’s courtiers gasped with forced delight and began to flutter around her.

  “You are stunning in that hat!” cried the man with the enormous belly.

  “Yes. Next,” the Queen said.

  The Hatter took off the Queen’s hat and replaced it with another—this one featuring a huge brim that hid half her face. The Hatter smiled with satisfaction.

  “Your Majesty has never looked better,” cooed the woman with the gigantic nose. “Another,” the Queen said. But before the Hatter could hat her head again, Lady Large Nose’s nose fell to the floor.

  “You dropped something,” the Hatter said.

  The woman’s eyes widened as she realized what had happened. She felt for her nose, but found only her actual nose, which was quite a normal size. With a gasp, she grabbed the fake and quickly turned away to reattach it.

  The Hatter’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. Now he spotted the straps above the man’s pants which held his false protruding belly in place. The woman turned back around with her long nose reattached, and the Hatter laughed out loud, not a mad laugh this time, but one of genuine amusement. The courtiers gave him a nervous look.

  “Oh. Never mind him,” the Queen said from under her hat, having missed the whole exchange. “He’s mad.” She waved one hand dismissively. “Come along.”

  The female courtier with the long ears came rushing into the room. She hurried over and whispered into the Queen’s ear. The Queen’s face became redder and redder as she listened. Finally she bellowed, “STAYNE!” and everyone within hearing distance was quite happy he was not the Knave of Hearts.

  Meanwhile, down in the stables, Alice was just waking up to find the ominous visage of the Bandersnatch looming over her. Somehow he’d managed to shove his eye back into its socket, where it now stared upward uselessly. And yet this seemed to please the creature—so much so that he hadn’t eaten Alice in her sleep.

  Alice noticed a large key on a chain hanging around the Bandersnatch’s neck. It must be the key to the chest! Keeping her eyes on the Bandersnatch, she reached for it, then froze as the monster lowered his head to sniff her arm and the wound he’d inflicted. A sharp bolt of pain ran up to her shoulder, but she refused to be deterred. Reaching forward again, she pulled the key off his neck.

  But before she could turn to the chest, the Bandersnatch’s long, thin tongue coiled out of its mouth. He began to gently lick her wound, and to her surprise, his tongue was soothing and cool. With a sigh, she let him lick the wound clean. When he stopped, the infection was miraculously gone and the swelling had gone down. Alice moved her arm around, realizing the pain was gone, too.

  The Bandersnatch tilted his head at her, one eye askew.

  “I suppose this makes us even now,” said Alice, but she had to admit to herself that she now felt quite a bit more warmed to the horrible, toothy creature.

  The key slid perfectly into the lock on the chest, and when Alice lifted the lid, she found a gleaming sword inside. She knew instantly that it was the Vorpal Sword—no other sword could be so beautiful. It was made of shiny silver with an ornate handle. Alice lifted it up to the light and saw runes engraved on the blade.

  The Bandersnatch shuffled aside to let her leave the stall, and Alice found herself patting him on the nose as she went by. She carried the sword out into the courtyard, unaware of the peril that was waiting for her back inside the castle. . . .

  * * *

  “Um forced herself on me!” the Knave lied, talking fast. He knelt before the Queen in the great hall, surrounded by curious courtiers and footfrogs who were rather enjoying the spectacle of the great Knave of Hearts in trouble for once.

  “I told her my heart belongs to you,” Stayne wheedled, taking the Queen’s hand. “But she’s obsessed with me!”

  The Queen turned bright red with rage. “Off with her head!” she screamed.

  In the Queen’s dressing room, the Dormouse was trying to pick the lock of the chain around the Hatter’s ankles. Her hatpin kept bending in the sturdy lock, and she made a small noise of irritation.

  “Stand back, Mallymkun!” said a voice from the door.

  The Dormouse and the Hatter both looked up at once. Standing in the doorway was Alice, victoriously wielding the Vorpal Sword high over her head. She gave the Hatter a triumphant look.

  “How’s this for muchness?” Alice asked. She swung the sword toward his chain.

  “No! No!” cried the Hatter, wrenching the chain out of her way. Alice staggered forward and blinked at him in surprise. He hurried on, trying to explain. “It mustn’t be used for anything but—”

  “Arrest that girl for unlawful seduction!” cried another voice. The Knave of Hearts stood in the doorway, pointing at Alice. His Red Knights clattered in behind him and headed straight for her.

  “Hatter!” called the Dormouse. Alice raised the sword to fight, but—

  “Take it to the White Queen!” the Hatter cried.

  “I’m not leaving without you!” Alice objected.

  “Go!” he called out.

  But Alice was hesitant. The Hatter grabbed two bolts of fabric and threw them, knocking the Red Knights down. The Knave then unsheathed his sword. The Hatter picked up a mannequin and used it to block Stayne’s blows. Stayne hovered over him, driving him back against the table. The Hatter reached over his shoulder and grabbed a powder puff. He paused for only a moment before he began to swipe Stayne across his face. Then the Knave grabbed the manequin and threw it over his shoulder. Quickly, the Hatter spun around and grabbed a perfume bottle with a sprayer and, brandishing it, jumped on a chair to bring himself to the same height as the Knave.

  “Run, Alice!” the Dormouse called out.

  Stayne stopped dead, and the Dormouse recognized her mistake immediately. The Knave looked at Alice, revelation spreading across his face.

  “Alice?” he said slowly.

  “RUN!” bellowed the Hatter.

  Alice had no choice. She fled out the door with the Knights in hot pursuit.

  Stayne’s voice boomed down the hall.

  “SEIZE HER!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Alice burst out into the courtyard with Stayne and the Knights right behind her. She pounded across the cobblestones, but before she could reach the front gate, another squadron of Knights galloped out in front of her.

  She skidded to a stop, surrounded by Red Knights on all sides. Alice swung the sword in a circle, keeping them all at a distance. Her hair was tumbling into her face and her makeshift curtain dress kept tripping her as she spun.

  Stayne’s malevolent chuckle sent a chill down her spine. Alice turned to face him, holding the sword as threateningly as she could.

  “Alice,” the Knave sneered. “Of course! Why didn’t I see it? Well, it has been a long time.” He looked her over from her toes to her large head towering over him. “And you were such a little tyke then.” His expression became cold as he held out his hand. “Give me the sword.”

  “Stay back!” Alice cried, slashing at him. But with her attention focused on Stayne, she didn’t see the Knights coming up behind her until two of them had grabbed her arms. She fought and kicked and struggled, never letting go of the sword hilt.

  “The Queen will be so pleased,” said the Knave. “She’ll take great pleasure in taking off your head. I believe she wants to do the deed herself.”

  One of the Knights wrenched Alice’s right arm toward him and reached for the sword.

  “RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.”

  A thunderous growl rolled out of the stable door, and suddenly the Bandersnatch leaped out, as bloodthirsty and menacing as ever. Alice flinched and threw herself to the ground, but the monster soared right over her, biting and snapping at the Knights who had held her. Instantly the Knights scattered, yelling in fear.

  The Bandersnatch circled back and lowered his head to Alice. It took her a moment to realize what was happe
ning, but as soon as she did, she jumped to her feet and climbed onto his back. His fur was as warm as the bloodhound’s, but spikier, as if tiny needles were embedded in it. She clung to his collar with one hand and held the sword aloft with the other as Stayne and the Knights stared, astonished.

  The Bandersnatch bolted across the drawbridge and out of the castle. Any Knights standing in their way abandoned their posts with screams of terror. Alice held on tight as they galloped out into the red desert, to freedom.

  On a nearby hill, she saw a familiar friend waiting for them.

  “Ho, Alice!” he cried, his long ears flapping and his sad face lighting up with startled delight.

  “Bayard!” she called. “To Marmoreal!”

  The Knave of Hearts breathlessly entered the Red Queen’s throne room. He knew this was not going to be a pleasant conversation.

  The Red Queen was waiting at the base of her throne, pacing angrily. Her face was fiery red and her fists were clenched. She whirled to glare at the Knave as he walked up to her and bowed.

  “Majesty,” he said, “Alice has escaped.”

  In a fury, the Queen slapped him.

  “On the Bandersnatch,” he added.

  She slapped him again. He steeled himself for more.

  “With the Vorpal Sword.”

  The Red Queen slapped him harder than she’d ever slapped him before. He gritted his teeth. The indignities he had to put up with! If only he could be king with no queen anywhere in sight . . .

  “How could you let this happen?” she bellowed.

  “I may have underestimated her,” he admitted, although it pained him to confess such a thing. “But we have her conspirators: the Hatter and the Dormouse.”

  The Queen’s rage seemed to fill the entire great hall.

  “OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!”

  The White Queen’s castle was nothing like her sister’s. Where the Red Queen’s castle was dark and oppressive, the White Queen’s was light and airy.

  Sunshine spilled through the open windows, and sweet breezes carried the sound of birds’ chattering from outside. A flood of relief coursed through her as she entered the beautiful throne room and saw the Queen sitting on her throne. Everything about her kind face made Alice feel that perhaps this dreadful nightmare would turn out all right in the end.

  “Welcome to Marmoreal,” said the White Queen, smiling down at Alice and the Vorpal Sword.

  “I believe this belongs to you,” Alice said. She bowed and held the weapon up for her. The Queen took it with a nod of thanks and strolled gracefully over to the White Knight’s shining silver suit of armor, which was set up prominently near the throne. She placed the sword in the suit’s hand and turned back to Alice, beaming.

  “The Vorpal Sword is home again,” she said softly. “The armor is complete. Now all we need is a champion.”

  The Queen gave Alice a significant look. Alice dropped her eyes and didn’t respond. Finally, the Queen went on. “You’re a little taller than I thought you’d be.”

  This Alice did have an answer for. “Blame it on too much Upelkuchen,” she said, smiling.

  “Ah, come with me,” said the White Queen, sweeping her long silver robes behind her. Alice followed her down to the kitchen, where delicious smells mingled with the sounds of pots and pans and people singing as they worked.

  As they entered, an entire pot of soup was thrown at the door. Alice blinked at the wreckage of the mill. “Is the March Hare here?” she asked, guessing.

  “You’re late for soup, you wee besom!” bellowed the Hare from across the room. He picked up another pot of soup, and the White Queen ducked. The soup splattered on the door behind Alice. She touched one finger to the wall for a taste.

  “It could use salt,” she offered.

  A saltshaker came flying at her, and Alice ducked to avoid it.

  Alice followed the White Queen over to a large cast-iron stove, where a heavy pot full of a curious-smelling liquid was bubbling. The Queen took ingredients from a nearby cupboard, murmuring to herself.

  Alice wrinkled her nose, wondering if it might be better if she didn’t hear this. She could see a lot of strange-looking things inside the cupboard— ordinary herbs and spices were lined up alongside glass jars of eyeballs and bottles full of shredded insect parts.

  The White Queen glanced up at Alice with a smile. “Ah, pishalver. Let me think. A pinch of wormfat, urine of the horsefly, buttered fingers . . .” Her face turned thoughtful again as she reached back into the cupboard. “My sister preferred to study Dominion Over Living Things. Tell me, how does she seem to you?”

  “Perfectly horrid,” Alice answered truthfully.

  “And her head?”

  “Bulbous,” said Alice.

  “I think she may have some kind of growth in there . . . something pressing on her brain,” the White Queen said, shaking her head sadly. “Three coins from a dead man’s pocket, two tablespoons of wishful thinking . . .”

  “You can’t imagine the things that go on in that place,” Alice blurted. She couldn’t understand how the White Queen could sit here, calmly making potions and discussing theories, while her subjects suffered so much under the Red Queen.

  “Oh, yes, I can,” the Queen assured her. “But when a champion steps forth to slay the Jabberwocky, the people will rise against her.” She leaned over and sniffed the nasty concoction in the pot, then spit into it. “That should do it.”

  The White Queen fished a spoon out of a drawer, dipped it in the potion, and offered it to Alice. “Blow,” she cautioned her.

  Alice blew on the potion to cool it off, then took a sip. She knew better than to drink too much this time. Within a moment, she had shrunk to her normal size—or at least, she felt normal next to the White Queen, so she seemed right to herself. She wondered how she would measure up out in the real world, if she ever got back there.

  “Feel better?” asked the Queen.

  “Much,” said Alice.

  The Queen replaced the spoon in the pot and dusted her hands off, looking suddenly official and businesslike. “There’s someone here who would like to speak with you.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Down in the depths of the Red Queen’s dungeons, the Hatter was slumped on the floor of a cold cell, staring off into space. Mallymkun was trapped inside a large birdcage hanging from the ceiling. She clung to the wiry iron bars and gazed at him, but he was beyond her reach at the moment, both physically and emotionally.

  She peered into the cell across the way, where a female bloodhound named Bielle was pacing around her shivering pups, trying desperately to warm them. Mallymkun was fairly certain she recognized her as Bayard’s wife, but Bielle was too upset to stop and talk with the Dormouse long enough to confirm it.

  Just then, the clomp of heavy footsteps on the dungeon stairs announced the arrival of Stayne and his Red Knights. Bielle whirled and stared at the approaching guards, although they ignored her and her pups.

  “Hatter!” barked the Knave, banging on the bars of the cage. There was no response. The Hatter continued to stare blindly into space.

  One of the Knights reached through the bars and prodded the Hatter with his truncheon. When there was still no response, the Knight offered, “He’s gone off the deep end.” This was the usual opinion of the Hatter, so it surprised no one.

  “Pity,” said the Knave. He folded his arms and smirked. “It is a bore to behead a madman. No weeping, no begging . . .” He cast a meaningful look at the dogs in the opposite cage. Bielle hurled herself against the bars, her large brown eyes pleading.

  “Why are you keeping us here?” she cried. “We’ve done nothing wrong!”

  “Madam, blame your husband,” Stayne said with a snort. “He left you here to rot.”

  “You lie!” howled the bloodhound, throwing herself at the bars with new fury and snarling at the Knights. Stayne jumped back out of her reach, and in an instant, the Hatter was up and at the bars, seizing Stayne and pulling him back agai
nst the cage. His arm went around Stayne’s neck, and he began to squeeze, choking the life out of him.

  There was madness in the Hatter’s eyes, and he clearly felt no pain as Stayne struggled. Finally Stayne staggered free, gasping.

  The Knave clawed at his neck, struggling for air, and when he could finally breathe, he pointed at the Hatter with hatred in his eyes. “Your head comes off at dawn! And that one, too!” He jabbed a finger toward the Dormouse.

  The Hatter shrugged and spread his hands in a concilitory gesture.

  “Have a pleasant night,” he sneered, then spun on his heel and led his Knights out of the dungeon.

  The unspoken words were clear to the prisoners: It will be your last.

  The White Queen escorted Alice out of the castle to the topiary garden. Alice felt restless and worried. As horrible as it was, she wished she were back at the Red Queen’s castle, just so she could know what was happening with the Hatter. Was he still alive? Were they beating him again? What did he think of her escaping and leaving him to suffer whatever punishment the Queen would throw at him?

  Guilt tugged at her heart as she rounded a curve in the hedge maze. Just ahead, lit up by the moonlight, she spotted a topiary mushroom, neat curves and edges sliced out of the shrubbery. A telltale plume of smoke was rising from the top.

  “Absolem?” Alice asked, walking up to it.

  The large blue Caterpillar raised his head from his hookah and peered at her. “Who are you?” he asked through a cloud of smoke.

  Alice nearly smiled. “I thought we’d settled this. I’m Alice . . . but not that one.”

  “How do you know?” Absolem asked serenely. He blew smoke in her face and she coughed, waving it away.

  “You said so yourself,” she pointed out.

  “I said you were Not Hardly Alice,” he corrected her. “But you’re much more her now. In fact, you’re Almost Alice.”

  “Even so,” said Alice, shaking her head, “I couldn’t slay the Jabberwocky if my life depended on it.”